His voice was velvet soft. Compelling. So beautiful. He never pressured her. He never tried to get her to move, but she desperately wanted to. She pressed down and took the heat of the large thick crown into her body. She gasped as he invaded, pushing into her, spreading her open, touching so many nerve endings. It felt so good. It was exhilarating and yet terrifying at the same time.
Still, she was in control. He didn’t so much as push deeper, even though she could see on his face the pleasure spreading through him. She was giving him that. She loved that she was. It gave her courage to continue. She wanted to see that expression deepen. Along with his pleasure, she could see approval, pride in his eyes. She loved that he felt that for her.
She flexed her hips and pushed down, swallowing more of him. He felt big. Thick. So hot. She forced air through her lungs as she moved her body in little circles, watching his face. His eyes darkened. The lines in his face deepened. She was doing that. She wanted more. She liked seeing the lust for her building in him. It was mixed with love. She could see that so plainly.
She pushed down, determined to take him deep. She hadn’t considered that doing this would mean taking him so deep. She could feel his natural angle and immediately adjusted her body to angle hers with it, positioning herself so that her hips aligned with his. She began to move, sliding up and down, squeezing him, using her inner muscles, watching his face. Sometimes she rocked. Sometimes she ground down. Other times she did a little spiral. All the while she gained confidence because Taviano loved it all.
His hands went to her breasts, kneading and massaging, and then his fingers tugged and rolled her nipples so that little streaks of fire raced to her clit. He switched his attention from her breasts to her clit, flicking and teasing until it was inflamed, and she knew she was close. Before she could finish herself off, he caught her hips and stilled her.
“Try turning around and facing the other way.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Away from you?”
“That’s right, tesoro, facing away from me. You’re still in control.”
She wasn’t certain she could do that, although the idea must have somehow appealed to her body because she went even slicker. She could feel the heat. She knew he was letting her know she could trust him in any position. She was in control, but she wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing. If she was on her hands and knees, she wouldn’t be able to see. If she was on her back, he would be pinning her down. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.
Nicoletta refused to give in to panic. She nodded and rose up on her knees, allowing him to help her, his hands on her waist as she slowly turned her back on him, turning, his thick crown swirling just in the mouth of her entrance. It felt so delicious, that slow, sweeping turn. Then she leaned forward in a slow, deliberate sprawl, sliding back down over that hot, steel shaft. The new angle drove her wild. It hit her bundles of nerves from different directions, and each streak as she rode him sent flames raging through her.
His hands went to her bottom, rubbing over her cheeks. For a moment her heart stopped and then began pounding, but she felt his heart pounding to the same rhythm right through his cock as he began to move with her. She wanted him to move, and she encouraged him. She liked his hands on her cheeks and then when he caught her hips and pressed into her for a few hard upward thrusts.
Fiery tongues licked over her skin. Flames raged between her legs, threatening to consume her. His finger slid from the nape of her neck and down her spine and stroked between her cheeks, gentle, possessive, all the while his hips thrusting into her. Her breasts bounced and jolted with each thrust.
“Your clit, piccola, flick your clit now.”
She obeyed him because it was Taviano and she loved and trusted him with every cell in her body. The moment she did, fire erupted through her, a volcano of sensation. She ground down over him and then she was sobbing his name, her body clamping down on his like a silken vise, a thousand hot, hungry tongues milking him dry, greedy for every drop he could give her. She’d never felt anything like it, wave after wave of pure pleasure rolling through her, consuming her. Taking her. Taking him. It was perfection.
She lay over him, heart pounding, unable to move, limp and sated. Her lungs refused to work. She couldn’t roll off of him to see if he was alive or if she’d killed him. That was entirely possible.